


Morning After / Evening After

by Kaatyr



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunkenness, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28784601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaatyr/pseuds/Kaatyr
Summary: Leorio finds himself dealing with a very drunk, very clingy stranger at a club. The stranger worms his way into Leorio's life. Unfortunately, so do his shady associates.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Kudos: 239





	1. Morning After

Leorio had no idea why the little blond had plastered himself to Leorio like a baby bird under its mother’s wing. All he could say for sure was that the blond was well and truly, completely, without a doubt drunk.

“I don’t think you need that, kid.”

Leorio gently took the drink that a grinning Pietro had just handed over from the blond’s hand.

“Hey,” the blond protested indignantly as Leorio took a sip. Definitely alcoholic. Much too alcoholic for Leorio’s new companion.

“That’s mine,” the blond said with a very cute pout. He wriggled on Leorio’s lap, trying to reach for the drink. Leorio hastily pushed the drink across the table to an amused Pietro.

“Stop being a bastard,” Leorio told his friend. “Getting him even more drunk isn’t going to help.”

Pietro tapped the glass with the fingers of one hand as he watched the blond settle with his head against Leorio’s shoulder, his soft hair tousled. It was long enough that it could cover his ears.

“Have you gotten his name yet?” Pietro inquired.

“Nope,” Leorio said. “He’s barely talking sense. He mentions work a lot, but whenever I ask him about it, he says he doesn’t want to talk about it.” Leorio shrugged helplessly.

“I haven’t had any luck, either,” Pietro confessed. “Plenty of people have lost drunk, cute blonds but every time I start asking about specifics, well, it’s obvious they’re full of bullshit.”

“I want to dance.”

The blond lifted his face to stare imploringly up at Leorio, making no move to get off his lap.

“I don’t think so, Sunshine. Not after the spectacle you made of yourself earlier.” Leorio’s cheeks heated up at the memory. That spectacle was exactly why he’d snatched the blond off the dance floor. He’d been attracting way too much attention of the unsavoury and predatory kind. Worse still, the blond seemed to have no boundaries or sense of danger at all, eagerly entertaining the attention of anyone who got close enough to him irrespective of gender or manners. After watching a man's hands wander into dubious territory, Leorio had had enough and stepped in. Since then, he and Pietro had been trying to find the blond’s friends, if he’d come with any, but their search so far had been fruitless.

“So, what do we do?” Pietro asked, spreading his hands helplessly. “We don’t know who, if anyone, he came with. We don’t have his address. We don’t even know his name. I’d suggest just leaving him to fend for himself but…” Pietro’s raised eyebrow let Leorio know that the dark-haired man was already aware that the idea would fly about as well as a fat chicken with Leorio.

“You don’t have to deal with this. Go find Layla,” Leorio suggested. “I’ll, I don’t know, take him home, I guess. He’ll sober up tomorrow.”

“You sure?” Pietro asked.

“Yeah. Enjoy your night out,” Leorio said. “We’ll be fine. Right, Sunshine?”

“I think you’re mean. You won’t let me dance,” the blond said.

Pietro chuckled as he rose reluctantly from his chair. “Call if you run into any problems,” he said. “I’ll probably stay with Layla tonight, so…”

“have fun,” Leorio said in reply.

“Just one sec.” Grinning, Pietro raised his phone to snap a photo of Leorio and the blond. Leorio’s half-amused, half-indignant protest followed Pietro into the crowd.

Once Pietro had left, Leorio performed a brisk search of the blond’s pockets, hoping to find a reclamation slip for his coat. Surely the blond hadn’t walked the streets in that crop top?

But Leorio’s search turned up nothing, not even a mobile phone. Sighing, he said, “I guess you’re coming home with me, then. I hope you aren’t a serial killer or anything—or your boyfriend or girlfriend isn’t. Come on, up you get.”

Leorio’s effort to get the blond to stand on his own two feet proved futile. Thin arms clung to him, one sliding around his neck.

“You’re comfy,” the blond mumbled into Leorio’s neck.

“Oh, come on!” Leorio exclaimed. “Do you seriously expect me to carry you?”

Since the blond made no move to find his own feet, that seemed to be exactly what he expected of Leorio.

“I can tell you’re high maintenance,” Leorio grumbled.

“I’m not high. I don’t do drugs,” the blond said defensively. He gave a half-hearted kick, probably hoping to hit Leorio, but he was nowhere close.

“No, you’re just so drunk you can’t even understand what I’m saying,” Leorio said with a resigned sigh.

“You’re mean. And comfy,” the blond replied.

“And you’re much too cuddly for your own good. You’re lucky I’m not an asshole who’d take advantage of that,” Leorio rplied.

He carried the blond to the foyer and picked up his own coat. Instead of putting it on himself, he set the blond down on a bench and wrapped it around him instead. With the blond shielded from the stares of the other club patrons, Leorio carried him out into the parking lot, where he retrieved his keys from his coat pocket. The blond dozed against his shoulder as Leorio unlocked his car.

He met some resistance as he tried to put the blond in the passenger seat. The blond tried to hook his arms around Leorio’s neck, unwilling to let him go.

“Look, you can sleep here. Just settle down,” Leorio complained, pulling the seat belt over the blond’s hips and buckling it.

The blond looked as if Leorio were the worst person in the world, as if he’d just committed a mortal betrayal. Tears practically welled in his big grey eyes.

“Oh, shit, please don’t cry,” Leorio pleaded. “I can’t handle that.”

The blond sniffled. Leorio pulled his coat more firmly around the blond. “Go to sleep,” he repeated, patting the blond’s hair in a soothing manner. “Please,” he added.

Thankfully, the blond did settle sulkily into the seat. Leorio headed around to the driver’s side. By the time he got into the car, his passenger had drifted off again, his head lulling against the head rest.

Leorio drove back to the apartment he shared with Pietro. He put the blond to bed in his own room and spent the night in his roommates’ since he knew that Pietro wouldn’t be coming home that night.

Leorio expected his guest to be out of sorts when he woke up the next morning. Waking up in a stranger’s apartment with a severe hangover was never going to be a good start to the day. What he didn’t expect was to wake up with a knife pressed against his throat.

Leorio gaped in confusion. Hard grey eyes stared down at him from a very pale face. The hand holding the knife shook slightly. Leorio swallowed. He tried to smile in what he hoped was a reassuring, calming way.

“Morning,” he said. It was on the tip of his tongue to call the blond ‘Sunshine’ like he had last night, but he luckily reconsidered. The blond did not look as if he’d be at all receptive to the nickname. “Sleep well?” Leorio inquired.

The blond looked taken aback by the question. Leorio hoped that his flippancy hadn’t just cost him his neck, but he really had no better idea of how to handle the situation.

“Who are you? Where am I? Who do you work for?” the blond finally demanded.

“Uh, I’m Leorio. Doctor Leorio Paladiknight,” Leorio said, hoping that the blond might find the news that he was a doctor reassuring. Not that being a doctor was conclusive proof that he was an upstanding, unthreatening member of society who didn’t kidnap and rape cute, drunk blonds. “This is my apartment, and I work for Yorknew General Hospital.”

The blond seemed confused by Leorio’s introduction. “And why, exactly, do I find myself in your apartment, doctor?” he asked.

“Because you got drunk at a club last night and I had to haul you outta there before you ended up in someone else’s apartment, or a cheap motel room, or a dirty alley, or a shallow grave,” Leorio said. “So could you put that knife back in the kitchen drawer, please?”

Reluctantly, the blond removed the knife, which was unquestionably from Leorio’s own kitchen, from Leorio’s throat. Leorio was finally able to sit up and take proper stock of his guest. The blond had raided Leorio’s wardrobe, replacing the crop top and tight pants with one of Leorio’s button-ups and slacks. Leorio couldn’t say that the fact bothered him. The blond looked kind of cute in the oversized clothing, with the sleeves rolled up to keep his hands free.

The blond moved off the bed and to a safe distance as Leorio got up, his posture still wary.

“I went to a club?” he asked uncertainly.

“Yeah, you did,” Leorio agreed.

“And got drunk?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, shit.” The blond's face showed a complicated array of emotions, from horror to embarrassment to slight skepticism, as if he still had some doubt as to Leorio's honesty.

“Yep,” Leorio said sympathetically. He tugged on one of Pietro’s sweatshirts. “I’m guessing you’ve probably got an elephant stomping on your brain right now. There’s some medication in the kitchen cupboard above the sink.”

“I know. I found it,” the blond returned.

“Oookay, Mr Nosy,” Leorio said slowly.

The blond pressed his lips together, looking slightly sheepish but Leorio doubted that he’d apologise. The blond probably thought that he was justified in his snooping.

Maybe he was. Leorio had never gotten so drunk that he’d woken up in a stranger’s apartment before, with no memory of the preceding events. Maybe he’d be just as rattled as the blond if that happened to him. But, really, the knife to the throat was a bit unreasonable.

“Look, I’m going to freshen up,” Leorio said. “Make yourself a coffee or something. I’ll whip something up for breakfast when I’m done, okay?”

The blond eyed him suspiciously. “How do I know you won’t drug me?” he asked.

“You tell me. You’ve been through my stuff, apparently,” Leorio returned snippily.

The blond backed off, giving Leorio a clear path to the door, and indicating a tentative agreement to Leorio’s proposal.

Right. Leorio passed by him, eyeing the knife still in his hand warily. He entered the bathroom and shut the door behind himself with relief.

When he left it, he half expected the blond to have taken the opportunity to flee. However, he found the blond sitting at the kitchen island on a stool, Leorio’s phone in hand. The knife was nowhere to be seen, thankfully.

“Hey, that’s mine,” Leorio protested.

The blond made no objection when Leorio took the phone from him. He winced as he saw the photo on the screen. Pietro had sent him the photo he’d taken last night of the blond zoned out on Leorio’s lap, hair shining in the neon lights of the club.

“I apologise,” the blond said tightly. “It seems that I jumped to conclusions.”

He looked away, cheeks red.

“It’s fine,” Leorio said, patting his shoulder. “There anyone you need to call?”

The blond frowned. “I should call my colleague. I don’t appear to have my phone on me, so she might be concerned.”

“Okay, well, use that.”

Leorio passed his phone back to the blond, who took it, still frowning.

“How do you take your coffee?”

Black,” the blond responded.

Leorio listened to the one-sided phone call as he brewed the coffee. It was short, curt and told him nothing of why the blond had been so defensive upon finding himself in an unfamiliar environment.

When Leorio set the coffee down on the island, the blond said, “You said your name was Leorio, right? Who is Pietro?”

Nosy little bastard.

“My friend and roommate. He isn’t here right now,” Leorio said.

“Oh.” The blond fell silent for a moment as he sipped the hot coffee. Finally, he said, “My name is Kurapika. Thank you for your assistance last night. I apologise if I was any trouble.”

“You were no trouble,” Leorio assured him. “You were… kind of cute, actually. It’s weird. A lot of people get violent when they’re drunk, but you’re the opposite.” He laughed, but Kurapika didn’t seem to share his amusement. His guest stared at Leorio as if he couldn’t believe what had just come out of his mouth.

“Okay, uh, I guess that came out wrong?” Leorio asked, though he had no idea how.

Kurapika huffed, before taking another sip of his coffee. He pressed his fingers to his temple, as if he were just done with the day already and wanted to go back to bed until it was over.

“Breakfast,” Leorio decided. “I said something about breakfast, right?” He turned, mentally going through the contents of his fridge and cupboards.

“Don’t trouble yourself. My colleague will be picking me up soon,” Kurapika said.

“Oh. How did you know the address?” Leorio asked.

“Your phone. Thank you for the coffee, but I should head downstairs to meet her.”

“Uh, okay.”

With reluctance, Leorio watched Kurapika leave, his coffee barely touched. He wanted to ask the young man to stay, but knew better. Drunk Kurapika might have been a cuddly teddy bear last night, but sober Kurapika was clearly a different beast entirely—one that required caution. Leorio had the impression of an animal on the watch for predators, suspicious of every movement in the bushes.

Two days later Leorio received a delivery—the clothes Kurapika had borrowed, freshly laundered, ironed and folded, along with a note once again apologising for the inconvenience.

“You should have gotten his number,” Pietro said as Leorio studied the neat handwriting on the note.

“Yeah, but I don’t think it would have made a difference,” Leorio admitted. “He’s probably got a boyfriend or girlfriend. Maybe his colleague was actually his girlfriend?”

“Then why’d he go out to a club alone?” Pietro countered.

Leorio shrugged, having no good answer to that.


	2. Evening After

Leorio had been sure that he’d never see the cute blond Kurapika again. He’d resigned himself to that fate.

Fate had other plans, however.

A loud knocking roused Leorio from a deep sleep. Groaning, he rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. The knocking continued. Leorio heard a thud from Pietro’s room, and a curse.

Seconds later, the knocking stopped. Leorio closed his eyes, relieved that Pietro had solved the problem. Except—

“Leorio? Get your ass up.”

Pietro stood in the doorway, shirtless and scowling, his brown hair rumpled. His arms were crossed over his chest.

“Why?” Leorio groaned out.

Pietro flipped on the light switch and Leorio threw one arm over his eyes.

“Fuck off,” he complained.

“The twink from the club is currently bleeding out on our living room sofa,” Pietro informed him coldly. “You might want to do something about that before he ruins the sofa.”

“What?”

Leorio drew his arm down, wondering if he was still dreaming.

“Twink. Sofa. Dying.” Pietro enunciated. He pointed in the direction of the living room.

“Shit,” Leorio said, drawing out the word. He slid out of bed, cursing the cold floor. Shirt. He needed a shirt.

After fumbling around to make himself (mildly) presentable, Leorio staggered out into the living room.

Yep, Pietro hadn’t been fucking with him. Their sofa was currently occupied by a familiar blond. He lay lengthwise on the sofa, hand pressed to his abdomen. His fingers were stained with dark red wetness.

“Fuck,” Leorio said quietly. “Pietro, call a—“

Pietro, who was kneeling beside the sofa, turned his head to look up at Leorio.

“Ambulance?” he asked dryly. “Yeah, I already suggested that. Mr Sunshine doesn’t seem too keen on that.”

Only then did Leorio realise that their guest held a gun in his free hand, and it was pointed at Pietro.

Leorio stomped over to the sofa and shoved in beside Pietro, fuming.

“Put that away... or something,” he demanded. “Do something with it. Just get rid of it, you idiot.”

Kurapika’s grey eyes were full of pain and fear. “No ambulance,” he said. “If I wanted an ambulance, I could have fucking called one myself.”

“Okay, okay. Just put that gun away. Put the safety on and give it to Pietro.”

The blond pressed his lips together, but obeyed. Pietro took the gun as if it were a live grenade and carefully set it on the table next to the sofa, atop a stack of magazines.

“Pietro, can you grab the medical kit out of the kitchen?” Leorio asked as he began to unbuckle the blond’s belt. He tugged the formerly-white button-up shirt up and grimaced. Kurapika had clearly tried to tend to the wound himself by wrapping his abdomen in bandages, but those bandages were stained with blood. The wound needed stitches.

“You’re going to fix it, right? You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

The undercurrent of desperation in Kurapika’s voice wiped away any reservations Leorio might have had about being woken in the middle of the night and dragged out of bed without notice.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, smoothing Kurapika’s bangs out of his face. Sweat made the strands damp and sticky. “I’m a doctor. I’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“Thank you.” Kurapika let out a long breath.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Leorio inquired as Pietro returned with the medical kit.

“No,” was the curt response.

Kurapika might not have been forthcoming about the source of his injury, but Leorio could tell, as he stitched it up, that it was a stab wound. Just what kind of work did Kurapika do that led to him being stabbed? And why couldn’t he go to the hospital?

Kurapika’s face was pinched with pain when Leorio finished with the stitches and slid a blanket over him. He tried to push it off.

“Are you done? I need to—“

Leorio pushed him down, resolutely tucking the blanket over him. Kurapika glared at him, but Leorio stayed firm.

“Are you crazy? You need to rest. If you move around too much, you’ll pull your stitches out, then you’ll be right back where you started—and don’t bother coming back to me. I don’t treat dumbasses who don’t listen to me.”

Kurapika let out a loud sigh, but settled and closed his eyes. Leorio watched carefully, wondering if Kurapika was playing possum, but his breath slowly evened out.

Pietro helped Leorio clean up. Despite the fact that it was 2am in the morning, and he had work the next day, he’d stayed up to watch the proceedings and give Leorio an extra set of hands when needed.

“Are you really going to let him sleep on our sofa?” Pietro asked, a note of anxiety in his voice. “He’s got a gun, Leo.”

“I know, but it’ll be fine. He’s just... scared,” Leorio assured Pietro.

Pietro shrugged. “I trust you. If you say he’s all right, then I’ll accept that,” he said. “Just be careful. Even if he’s a decent guy, the people he works with might not be. Someone who’s on the right side of the law doesn’t need back-room medical treatment.” Pietro started toward the hallway, but paused to add, “Screw him if you want to, but don’t let him screw you over.”

“Pietro!”

With a shrug and a grin, Pietro returned to his bedroom. Leorio returned to the living room to find his guest still laying on the sofa, arms protectively covering his injury. Leorio glanced at the gun. Should he hide it? But what if Kurapika woke up and flipped out about it? What if he went for the knives again?

No, no way. Leorio decided to leave it where it was. He had no idea what the blond was physically capable of—Leorio was a big guy, but little guys could still kick ass. Leorio had no intention of finding out first-hand if Kurapika was some kind of martial arts expert.

Leorio settled himself in the armchair and allowed himself to slip into a doze. He could have gone back to bed, but then Kurapika might wake up, realise he was alone, and take the opportunity to slip out without Leorio knowing. Leorio might not be able to actually stop him from leaving, but he wanted to at least know that Kurapika was going.

Morning came much too quickly—and, miracle of miracles—Kurapika was still there on the sofa when Leorio opened his eyes to a steaming cup of coffee under his nose. Pietro, already dressed in his policeman’s uniform, held out the cup expectantly.

“Thanks,” Leorio said appreciatively, taking it.

“Since I figured I’d wake you up anyway with all my banging around, I thought I’d make an extra cup for you,” Pietro said. “How’s the twink?”

Leorio looked over at the sleeping Kurapika. Some of his hair had fallen across his face. His arms were still crossed, his face tipped to the side and his eyelashes kissing his cheeks.

“I haven’t checked yet, but he’s still here so that’s a good sign,” Leorio answered. “At least he’s not bleeding to death on the pavement outside.”

“I could, uh...” Pietro lowered his voice. “Do a bit of digging. Try to find out if anything happened yesterday.”

That was tempting. Really tempting. But it took only a moment of thought before Leorio shook his head. “Thanks, but nah,” he said. “I don’t think I want to know what he’s into. If this turns into something serious, then I’d rather he tell me himself.”

“If you say so. Just be careful,” Pietro warned.

Leorio nodded in agreement.

Pietro left. Kurapika’s eyes flew open as the door closed behind him. Kurapika sat up quickly, then grimaced and eased himself back down.

“Damn,” he muttered.

“Morning,” Leorio said, omitting the ‘good’ since he didn’t think Kurapika was feeling anything remotely close to ‘good’ right now.

Kurapika turned his head to stare at Leorio, then lifted his arm to check his watch.

“I have to go,” he said.

Leorio shot to his feet and hastily set his coffee down. “Not until I’ve had a look at your bandages,” he said. “I need to make sure that none of your stitches have come out.”

“How could they? I haven’t moved off this sofa,” Kurapika replied dryly.

“Doctor’s orders. So shut up,” Leorio said, his tone broking no argument.

Kurapika’s eyes skimmed over to the gun on the table. So did Leorio’s. A beat passed, tension taut in the air. Finally, it broke when Kurapika let out a huff.

“Fine,” he said.

Leorio confirmed that the stitches were still in place and Kurapika wasn’t in immediate danger of bleeding out through his stomach. He was hardly satisfied with Kurapika’s condition, however. If Kurapika did the right thing and rested, he’d probably be fine, but infection was still a possibility.

Kurapika brushed off his concerns and left, taking his gun with him, tucked back into its holster beneath his jacket.

Just a few days later, Leorio received another delivery from Kurapika. This one consisted of an envelope with six crisp one hundred dollar bills in it. ‘For the inconvenience’, the note read.

Pietro whistled when Leorio showed him the money, fanned out between his fingers.

There’s no way he’s on the right side of the law.”

“He seems... decent, though,” Leorio said, putting the money back in the envelope. “Most people wouldn’t have bothered with any sort of compensation.”

“True. He does seem to pay his debts. Or maybe he just hates owing anyone favours,” Pietro observed. “Do you think he’ll show up again?”

“Not in the middle of the night, I hope,” Leorio grumbled.

Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad... as long as Kurapika wasn’t knocking on Death’s door at the time.


	3. The Rat

Leorio settled back into his usual routine of work, sleep, work quite easily when it became apparent that Kurapika wouldn’t be contacting him again.

He stumbled through his door at about 8pm, prepared for a quiet night alone as Pietro had the night shift at the station. He’d already eaten at the hospital before he left, because the cafe food wasn’t actually shit, and he got a discount anyway since he worked there. He planned on maybe watching some TV to unwind, then go to bed.

But Leorio froze when he entered the living room. The television was already on, and someone was already sitting on the sofa. Had Pietro decided not to go to work for some reason?

It took only a moment for Leorio to realise that the person lounging on the sofa wasn’t Pietro. Familiar grey eyes opened to blink lazily at him. An expensive-looking suit jacket had been flung over the back of the sofa and the blond had undone several buttons on his dress shirt. He looked much, much too comfortable for someone who really ought to not be in the apartment at all.

“You’re really tall,” was the slurred greeting Leorio received.

Oh, shit.

Leorio nudged aside a Baileys bottle with his foot as he approached the sofa.

“Hello again, Kurapika,” he said dryly.

Leorio bent over him to check that he was okay. He wrinkled his nose at the strong smell of alcohol on Kurapika’s breath. A quick fumble over Kurapika’s body let him know that Kurapika didn’t appear to be bleeding anywhere.

A hand yanked on his collar. Leorio squeaked as Kurapika tried to pull him down. After some jostling, he squeezed himself onto the sofa beside Kurapika, who took up far more space than he ought to have been allocated due to his slim build. Leorio thought that he ought to have had the lion’s share, but Kurapika clearly felt differently. He leaned heavily against Leorio.

“Did you know that bats can eat over 1,000 mosquitoes per hour?” Kurapika inquired seriously, his head pillowed on Leorio’s shoulder.

“No,” Leorio answered tolerantly and honestly. The fact that the television was on the documentary channel explained Kurapika’s non-sequitur. Leorio had more important matters to discuss than the eating habits of bats, however.

“Kurapika, why are you here?” he asked. And how had he gotten in anyway? And how long had he been here? Long enough to work his way through Leorio’s stash of Baileys, judging from the number of bottles on the floor. He didn’t seem to have touched Pietro’s bourbon, which was a real pity.

“I hate my job,” Kurapika said, then he burst into tears.

Oh, oh, shit.

Leorio had no idea what to do. Kurapika buried his face in Leorio’s shirt, tears staining the fabric.

Should he call Pietro? Was there a need for police intervention? But should he do that without Kurapika’s consent? What if Kurapika sobered up, and became furious with him? What if getting the police involved led to nasty consequences for Kurapika? If he was working on the wrong side of the law, then that was a very real possibility.

“It’s okay,” Leorio said soothingly. He wrapped his arm around Kurapika. The small blond pushed himself closer to Leorio, so close that he was practically in Leorio’s lap… which wasn’t a bad thing, exactly.

It was a really good thing that Kurapika was drunk and probably wouldn’t remember this, Leorio reflected. Because he couldn’t really hide his interest, given that Kurapika was on top of him.

Thankfully, Kurapika didn’t seem to have any interest in anything sexual. He continued to cry into Leorio’s shirt, fingers curled tightly in the fabric.

Leorio had no idea why Kurapika had broken into the apartment, why he’d decided that getting drunk was a great idea, and why he’d picked _Leorio’s_ apartment for that. Surely he had friends whose places he could safely crash at?

Unless… maybe he didn’t?

Sober Kurapika was such a wary animal that maybe there really wasn’t anyone he trusted in his life.

Leorio ran his fingers through Kurapika’s hair as Kurapika’s tears began to slow and his eyelids droop. The strands were so soft and light between his fingers.

Within a few minutes, Kurapika was sleeping heavily on Leorio, and Leorio realised that he’d be spending the night on the sofa. He didn’t have the heart to move Kurapika.

Thank God Pietro had been on shift that night. Leorio didn’t want to think of what might have happened had Pietro been the one to find Kurapika in their apartment. The blond would probably be spending the night in jail, not on Leorio’s lap.

“Uh, you didn’t mention anything about having company over,” Pietro pointed out as he confronted Leorio the next morning, having just finished work.

Leorio sighed. He’d woken up a half hour ago, but Kurapika was still fast asleep, and clinging to him. He’d flipped the television channel to a morning talk show, but he was bored with that. Nothing better on, though.

“I didn’t know he’d be here,” Leorio confessed. “I think he broke in.”

“And you decided that both of you ought to get drunk?” Pietro questioned. Of course he hadn’t missed the Baileys bottles on the floor.

“Actually, he drank those,” Leorio said.

“Leorio.” Pietro’s voice had a certain parental tone that Leorio didn’t like much. “Can I talk to you alone?”

“Uh, if I can get this lug off me,” Leorio agreed. He carefully eased Kurapika off him, careful not to jostle him too much. Once he was sure that Kurapika was settled, and still fast asleep, he followed Pietro into the kitchen.

“I don’t see how who I spend time with is your business,” Leorio began, taking the offensive before Pietro could get a word in.

Pietro stood on the opposite side of the island, frowning.

“This isn’t about that—not exactly, anyway,” Pietro began. “I think I know who he is—and if I’m right, you really need to be careful, Leorio.”

Leorio distinctly remembered saying that he didn’t actually want to know, that it’d be better if Kurapika told him himself, but the temptation of that knowledge dangling right in front of his nose was too much for him.

“Who is he?” The fact that Kurapika was known to law enforcement certainly didn’t bode well.

“I showed his photo, that one from the club, to a colleague of mine who works in the undercover division.” Pietro took a deep breath. “He’s one of us, Leorio. He’s a cop.”

Leorio let that sink in. “You’re joking,” he said.

“No. He’s a cop. His full name is Kurapika Kurta.”

“Wow, that’s a relief,” Leorio said with a short laugh. “You had me worried for a minute. I thought you’d say that he was a drug dealer or something.”

“He might well be,” Pietro said cryptically.

“What?” Leorio demanded.

“He’s undercover, Leorio. Deep, deep undercover. His main target is a local crime boss, but apparently he’s managed to infiltrate a ring of international thieves as well. He’s in with some really dangerous people.” Pietro paused, before repeating, “Really dangerous people,” and putting extra emphasis on the ‘dangerous’. “They call him the Rat,” Pietro finished.

“Shit. I kind of wish you hadn’t said anything,” Leorio admitted. He couldn’t wrap his head around the news. The blond twink who’d gotten drunk on Leorio’s liquor stash, said he hated his job, then started sobbing into Leorio’s shirt… was an undercover cop?

No wonder he hated his job. How awful must it be to have to pretend to be someone you weren’t, to constantly be watching your back lest someone discover who you really were, to have to do things that you really didn’t want to do… the kind of things that sent people to Leorio’s hospital?

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to continue… whatever it is you’ve got going with him,” Pietro admitted, his gaze soft. “But that’s not my call to make, anyway. Just be careful and don’t get sucked into his world, Leorio. Not just for your own sake, but his as well.”

Pietro headed for his bedroom to change out of his uniform, and Leorio returned to the living room. Kurapika stirred as Leorio sat down. Leorio felt the moment when Kurapika’s entire body stiffened.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he said. “How’s the head?”

Kurapika lifted his head to stare at Leorio, his eyes still red and puffy.

“Oh,” he said faintly, before letting his head fall back again.

“You owe me Baileys, you little shit,” Leorio said, injecting as much brightness in his voice as he could muster. Kurapika’s life was probably shit, so why not try to make it a little better for him? Surely he deserved a little break? “And if you’re going to get drunk on my sofa, and with my alcohol, the least you could do is invite me.”

“Oh, God,” Kurapika groaned quietly.


	4. Encounter

Kurapika did reimburse Leorio for the Baileys, though Leorio wasn’t all that bothered about it, really.

The next time Kurapika showed up was a few weeks later. Leorio got home from work to find a very sober Kurapika stepping out of the kitchen just as Leorio closed the front door.

“Shit!” Leorio exclaimed. He was so startled that he nearly dropped his briefcase.

The look Kurapika gave him was deadpan. “Hello,” he said stiffly.

“Uh, hi,” Leorio replied as he looked Kurapika over suspiciously. The undercover cop was wearing one of his black suits. Given that he looked perfectly in order (and just perfect in general), Leorio was stumped as to why Kurapika was there.

“Am I intruding?” Kurapika inquired, shifting one foot back as if he wanted to retreat. “Will your roommate mind that I’m here?”

“I don’t think so,” Leorio guessed. “But why are you here, Kurapika?”

Kurapika looked decidedly uneasy. “I, uh...” Kurapika shifted his eyes to the side, refusing to meet Leorio’s. Leorio took pity on him.

“Well, in any case, I’m starving,” he announced. “Please tell me that you haven’t raided my pantry.”

Kurapika’s lips quirked upward. “No,” he said. “And I haven’t touched your Baileys either… yet.”

From then on, Kurapika showed up sporadically. Sometimes weeks would go by, and Leorio wouldn’t see him. Sometimes he’d show up after only three days had passed since his last visit. Leorio never asked why, and never asked Kurapika about his life or job. As for Pietro, he and Kurapika settled into a strange, wary relationship where the pair would often side-eye each other. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was tolerable.

A strange incident brought Leorio further into Kurapika’s world than he’d ever wanted to go.

It had been a while since Kurapika had shown up, and Leorio was picking up some groceries from the local convenience store on his way home. He hovered next to the coffee blends, uncertain of whether Pietro was running low or not. When Leorio checked his pocket for his phone, intending to call Pietro to check, he found that it was gone.

That was strange. Leorio’s hands shook slightly as he tried to remember the last time he’d used it. Right when he’d gotten out of the car to check his messages. He was sure of it. Had it fallen out of his pocket somewhere in the store? Leorio couldn’t see how that was possible.

“Shit,” Leorio muttered, re-checking his pockets before lifting his head to glance up and down the aisle, at a loss. Should he go to the customer service counter and ask if anyone had turned it in? That seemed like his only option.

“Excuse me.”

Leorio turned to see a black-haired man who looked to be around his own age standing nearby. He had grey eyes, an aristocratic face and a polite, though slightly amused expression. His black hair was smoothed back from his forehead in a style that gave his face a rather severe countenance.

“Is this yours?” the man inquired.

Leorio looked down to the offered hand. Jewelled rings glittered on the man’s elegant fingers, and resting on his palm was Leorio’s phone.

“Yeah, thanks,” Leorio said, reaching out to take it with a sheepish smile.

The man gave him a look that seemed far too intense and curious—so much so that Leorio began to feel uncomfortable.

“You should be more careful with it,” the man said, something sinister lurking behind his smile, like a crocodile hiding in murky water. “You never know who might pick it up.”

“Yeah,” Leorio said, his unease growing.

The man gave him a little wave, that seemed almost cheeky to Leorio, before continuing on down the aisle.

The encounter shook Leorio so much that he didn’t bother calling Pietro. He just got the coffee anyway, figuring that it wouldn’t go astray.

It wasn’t until he was sitting in his car in the parking lot of the convenience store, while going through his contacts to call Pietro to ask if he’d planned anything for dinner, or if he wanted Leorio to pick some take-away up on his way home, that Leorio realised that there was an extra number in his contact list. Leorio felt light-headed as he read the name, then re-read it just to be sure.

Kurapika.

That was the name.

Kurapika had never given Leorio his number. He just showed up out of the blue, no contact.

Had Kurapika input his number into Leorio’s phone at some point and Leorio just hadn’t noticed until this moment? He supposed it was possible.

Or... had that man from the convenience store...?

Leorio shook his head, dismissing the possibility as so remote that it might as well be on Pluto. If that man had put Kurapika’s number into Leorio’s phone, then that would mean that he’d deliberately sought Leorio out. But why? Just to give him Kurapika’s number? That made no sense at all.

If Kurapika wanted Leorio to have his number, then there was no need to be so clandestine about it. He could have just given it to Leorio directly.

Shrugging it off, Leorio put the call through to Pietro.

Kurapika showed up two days later. He pounced on Leorio as soon as Leorio got through the door, vibrating with agitation.

“Where is your phone?” Kurapika demanded.

“What?” Leorio asked, baffled as he tried to get his coat off. Kurapika was right in his face, glaring up at him.

“Phone,” Kurapika barked.

Leorio gave Pietro, who was standing in the kitchen doorway looking equally as baffled, a questioning look.

“He’s been like this ever since he turned up,” Pietro said, spreading his hands helplessly. “Wound up like a coil.”

Kurapika, having lost patience, began to search Leorio’s pockets himself.

“Hey!” Leorio protested.

Kurapika’s hand slipped out, Leorio’s phone in his possession. Spinning on his heel, Kurapika headed into the kitchen, phone in hand. Leorio followed, alarm rising as Kurapika removed the phone’s case.

“What did he say to you?” Kurapika demanded.

“Who? What?” Leorio inquired.

Kurapika glanced back over his shoulder, ruby earring swaying, before turning away. Then he slammed Leorio’s phone down on the counter. Leorio flinched at the loud crack.

“Hey!” Pietro snapped, manoeuvring around Leorio to approach Kurapika.

“The phone’s been tampered with,” Kurapika snapped. “You can’t use it anymore. It’s not safe.”

“But I need a phone,” Leorio protested, stunned. He hadn’t planned to cover the expense of a new phone. He’d have to wait until his next pay came through before he could get one.

Kurapika shoved Leorio’s phone into a plastic bag and binned it before going into the living room. When he returned to the kitchen, where Leorio was sulkily consoling himself with a bottle of Pietro’s bourbon, he held out a brand-new phone to Leorio. The screen had a fresh, clean shine to it.

“This one’s safe,” he announced.

“Seriously?” Leorio asked.

“Yes. Look, I’m sorry. I really am. You just...” Kurapika glanced at Pietro, who stood with arms crossed, leaning against the counter. His expression was unreadable, though Leorio knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t happy with the situation.

Kurapika looked down. “They know who you are,” he said. “I thought I was careful but... they have ways of finding things out.”

“Is Leorio in danger?” Pietro asked, his tone low.

Kurapika met his eyes. “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “They’re just... a very strange group, especially...” There was a brief silence before Kurapika picked up the thread again. “They’re curious,” he said. “That’s all. It’s complicated, but I assure you that neither of you are in any danger.”

“As long as they don’t suspect you,” Pietro said ominously.

Kurapika visibly flinched before nodding. He glanced at Leorio from beneath his blond bangs, assessing. Leorio didn’t say anything. There was no need to. The cat was out of the bag now. He knew about Kurapika’s undercover work and Kurapika knew he knew.

“My number is in that phone,” Kurapika informed him. “Don’t use it unless you have to. Keep any communication as brief and innocent as possible. Assume that someone else is reading it.”

Leorio nodded, taking the phone from Kurapika. It appeared to be a different, more up-to-date model than his previous phone. Not cheap. Leorio would make sure to be careful with it.


	5. The Clown

The man who approached Leorio during his lunch break was highly suspicious—and not merely because Leorio had never seen him around the hospital before.

For one thing, his outfit was outlandish. Leorio assumed that he was probably there to visit the children's’ ward and cheer up the kids, since he was dressed like a clown. The makeup on his face was garish. Some of the kids would get a kick out of the star on his right cheek, but the tear on the left was puzzling. The asymmetry of it bothered Leorio.

Then there was the fact that the stranger was carrying a tray containing a serving of pie. Anyone who spent any time around the hospital’s cafe knew to stay away from the pie.

The stranger seated himself across the small table from Leorio, smiling in a smarmy way that set off alarm bells in his mind.

“Doctor Paladiknight,” he said. “I’ve heard so much about you, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Uh, sorry?” Leorio asked. “I don’t know you.”

“Ah, of course. But we have a mutual… well, friend is probably too strong a word. Or maybe it isn’t strong enough in your case.”

That smile remained as the stranger took a bite of the pie. Leorio grimaced in sympathy, but the stranger showed no sign of finding it unpalatable. He licked his lips before speaking again.

“You are familiar with a rather pretty blond, aren’t you? _Very_ familiar, if rumour is to be believed.”

Oh, shit. Leorio glanced around the cafe nervously. Once again, Kurapika’s double life was intruding on Leorio’s. They really needed to talk about this.

“Recently I’ve found myself… distanced from our mutual friend. That is unfortunate because our relationship has been mutually beneficial.”

The stranger’s smile widened. “I know he’s close to you, so I’m hoping you’ll deliver a message to him for me.”

The stranger slipped his hand underneath his vest and it came out with a slip of paper, which he slid to Leorio. Leorio reluctantly palmed it.

“You can read it, but I doubt it will make any sense to you, which is probably for the best. Give our friend my love.”

Then the stranger dabbed at his lips with a napkin, stood and left the table. Leorio turned to watch him go, noticing with distaste the slight, seductive sway of his hips.

Kurapika had some weird acquaintances. They were definitely going to have words about this. Leorio wasn’t his goddamned messenger pigeon.

“Get him off me.”

Leorio blinked stupidly at the scene in front of him. Kurapika was snuggled comfortably in Pietro’s lap, one arm slung around the back of his neck. He blinked slowly at Leorio, as content as a spoiled cat. In contrast, Pietro was stiff as a metal bar, a scowl firmly set on his face.

“Oh, no. He’s drunk, isn’t he?”

Leorio didn’t know whether to laugh, hit Pietro, or yell at Kurapika. He supposed he shouldn’t be too angry with Pietro since the officer was clearly an unwilling participant. And Kurapika certainly had no awareness of what was happening, so that basically left laughing as Leorio’s only option. He did so, much to Pietro’s fury.

“You bastard. Come on, he’s been hanging off me for an hour,” Pietro pleaded. “We really need to start scheduling around this, Leo.”

Leorio stooped to extract Kurapika from Pietro. Kurapika nuzzled his nose into Leorio’s neck as Leorio sat down beside Pietro. Kurapika flung his legs across Pietro’s lap.

“Aw, come on,” Pietro groaned.

“Just push him off,” Leorio suggested.

“Yeah? Last time I did that, he started crying,” Pietro countered. “Seriously, I can’t deal with that, Leorio. I’m used to people hurling abuse at me, not bursting into tears.”

Leorio snickered, vindictively pleased that Kurapika had that effect on someone else as well.

“Do you know how much he’s had to drink?” Leorio asked as Pietro grabbed the remote to turn the television down.

“Don’t know. I think he started before he got here,” Pietro said. “Why?”

“Because I need to talk to him sober,” Leorio admitted. “Something weird happened at work today.”

Pietro turned the television down further, worry creasing his brow. Kurapika sighed and shifted, curling further into Leorio’s chest. His shirt had slid out from the waistband of his slacks, leaving him looking much less put-together than usual.

“What happened?” Pietro questioned seriously.

“One of Kurapika’s ‘friends’ approached me at lunch.” Leorio made air quotes as he said ‘friends’, disturbing Kurapika in the process. Kurapika grumbled.

“You’re okay, right? What did they want?” Pietro asked.

“To deliver a message to Kurapika,” Leorio explained. “A note.”

“Can I see?”

Leorio shook his head. “It’s in my pocket. I can’t get to it.” Trying to worm the note out of his pocket would mean disturbing Kurapika further, possibly even setting off another bout of crying. It was clear that Pietro had come to the same realisation because he grimaced.

“It’s probably better if I don’t know, anyway,” he agreed.

Kurapika woke mostly sober a few hours later. He accepted the note Leorio passed him with a resigned sigh.

“I suppose it’s safe to tell you about Hisoka since he’s made contact with you,” Kurapika said over a freshly-brewed cup of coffee. He sat at the dining room table. Pietro had gratefully abandoned both of them some time ago.

“He’s a member of the group I’ve infiltrated. I’m not sure of his loyalty, honestly. He seems to play both sides, so you should be careful when dealing with him, Leorio. I’m very sorry you’ve been dragged into this. I suppose Hisoka thinks that passing information through you is somehow safer than passing it directly to me. Or he’s just messing with us.” Kurapika smiled thinly.

“He seems like the sort,” Leorio agreed. “But, seriously, Kurapika. I don’t want these people coming to my job. Can you please try to rein them in? This is just… really a lot.”

Kurapika looked downtrodden. “I know. I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I never should have come back.”

“Nah, don’t say that.” Leorio suddenly regretted his request. Like Kurapika was some kind of conductor who could just wave his baton and have everyone play his tune. It wasn’t fair of Leorio to expect that of Kurapika.

But that left Leorio with the responsibility and he wasn’t sure that he wanted it.

Was Kurapika worth it? Worth courting danger? Worth the risk to Leorio’s life?

Did Leorio need Kurapika in his life that badly?

Kurapika stared at him through lowered lashes, as if he could sense the gravity of the thoughts in Leorio’s head.

“I’ll try to get them to back off,” he said, “but I can’t make any guarantees. They know about you, so bringing it up shouldn’t be much of a problem. I’ll have to be careful though, since I can’t let certain people know Hisoka contacted you.”

“I say throw him to the wolves,” Leorio replied dryly.

“I wish I could,” Kurapika said with a dry chuckle. “Unfortunately, he’s still useful to me.”

“Pity,” Leorio muttered. Then he raised his voice to say, “Thank you, Kurapika.”

Kurapika smiled, and it seemed like a little bit of brightness cracked his exhausted depression.

“You’re a very kind man, Leorio,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. I swear this story was originally meant to be a one shot, but it just keeps getting longer. Every time I think I've finished it, something else inspires me.


	6. The Spider

Leorio was used to Kurapika showing up out of the blue, and sometimes even in the middle of the night, but his heart always jumped in his chest whenever he woke from a deep sleep to realise that Kurapika was there.

“We should start charging him rent,” Pietro had muttered one day.

“I don’t think he’s here often enough for that,” Leorio had countered. “And if we’re going to have to charge him, then we’d have to charge your girlfriend as well. Fair’s fair.”

So the rent issue had been dropped like a hot potato, much to Leorio’s satisfaction. Pietro had yet to bring it up again.

Leorio got up at 3am to get a glass of water, but paused next to the bathroom door. He could see light coming from underneath it. Weird. Pietro was working, but Leorio supposed that one of them could have forgotten to turn the light off.

At least, that was what went through Leorio’s sleep-fuddled brain. If he’d been thinking straight, he would have realised that neither of them would have left the door closed.

Leorio pushed it open. For just a moment, he felt his heart stop. Someone was standing in the bathroom, their back to him. Clothes scattered the tiles at their feet.

Kurapika’s blond hair was distinctive, but it took Leorio a moment to notice it. His eyes were fixed instead on the tattoo inked into Kurapika’s back. The twelve-legged spider was dark and creepy as hell. On the spider’s back was the number eleven.

Kurapika turned, having heard the door open. His face was as white as a sheet and his eyes luminous. His hair was damp with water. He must have just showered. Kurapika briefly frowned, then pulled a towel around his bare shoulders. He was partially dressed in a pair of black slacks and belt, and Leorio noticed one of his own shirts hanging on the towel rack.

Oh, God, this man was so fucking gorgeous that Leorio thought he might pass out just from the sheer beauty of him. He hoped that he wasn’t blushing.

“Kurapika,” Leorio said. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought someone had broken in.”

Technically, Kurapika had broken in, but that was a moot point now. He’d been doing it so often that Leorio was thinking of getting him a key cut—if Kurapika didn’t already have his own. He very likely did.

Kurapika, never one to miss an opportunity to be snarky, pointed out, “I did.” He looked down at his feet.

Leorio followed his stare and his stomach twisted. The clothes at Kurapika’s feet—no doubt the ones he’d arrived in—were covered in dried blood.

“I’ll clean it up,” Kurapika said quietly.

“Uh, sure.” Leorio paused, assessing Kurapika carefully. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Kurapika smiled, tired and thin. “No,” he said.

Leorio believed him. He and Kurapika were long past lying about that sort of thing. There was no point in Kurapika’s denials when Leorio could see right through them.

“Good.”

Leorio shut the door and leaned against the wall. He could still clearly see the outline of the spider tattoo marring Kurapika’s back. It looked… wrong in a way that Leorio couldn’t define. And what was the significance of the number eleven?

Leorio brewed some coffee and tried to shake off his drowsiness. By the time Kurapika emerged from the bathroom, wearing Leorio’s shirt and carrying an armful of blood-stained laundry, Leorio had a cup waiting for him.

“What are you going to do with those?” Leorio asked, gesturing to Kurapika’s burden.

“I’m going to throw them in the trash,” Kurapika said. “There’s no point in trying to wash them. The blood won’t come out.”

For a brief second, Kurapika’s face twisted as if he’d bitten into a rotten piece of fruit. But then it smoothed back into the boyish countenance that Leorio was familiar with.

“I’ll grab a bag for you.” Leorio fished out one of the plastic bags he and Pietro used to line the trash bin and Kurapika shoved his clothes in it. After washing his hands, he settled onto a stool to drink his cup of coffee. Leorio stood on the other side of the counter, his own coffee before him.

Kurapika looked washed out and worn in the electric lights. His hand shook slightly as he lifted the cup to his lips. It steadied as he sipped.

“Rough night?” Leorio asked gently.

Kurapika’s only response was to nod silently.

“That’s an interesting tattoo on your back,” Leorio continued. “I was thinking of getting a tattoo, but I thought maybe it would hurt…”

“It does,” was Kurapika’s quiet response.

“Um, do spiders have some kind of significance for you?” Leorio pressed.

Kurapika went as still as the air before a storm. Leorio tensed, afraid that he’d inadvertently stepped on a landmine. Kurapika’s life was certainly littered with them.

“The gang of thieves I infiltrated is sometimes known as the Spider,” Kurapika said, his gaze unnervingly direct. “Do you want to know any more?”

Kurapika was letting him know that the subject matter was unpleasant and giving him the option of passing. That was nice of him, but Leorio was curious. If it had to do with Kurapika, then he wanted to know. He’d just like to keep all his fingers and toes intact in the process of discovery.

Leorio nodded, giving Kurapika permission to continue.

Kurapika did, after taking another sip. “There are thirteen members at any given time, and no more,” he said. “Hence the twelve legs. The leader of the Spider is represented by the head.”

“That is really creepy. So you got the tattoo to infiltrate the group?” Leorio asked.

“No. I got the tattoo after I infiltrated the group. I killed the previous number eleven and took his place,” Kurapika explained, his voice cold. “I have another tattoo, one that I like much better.”

His eyes sparkled up at Leorio, indicating a change in mood.

“Yeah? What is it?” Leorio asked. He supposed it was probably in an area covered by Kurapika’s slacks since Leorio had already gotten a good look at Kurapika’s bare upper body—his very gorgeous upper body. Was it on his thigh? Leorio’s hands felt clammy at the thought.

Kurapika smiled wolfishly. “It’s a rat,” he said. “And, no, I’m not going to tell you where it is.”

“Aw, come on. You don’t have to show me. Just tell me,” Leorio pleaded.

But Kurapika shook his head mercilessly. “No,” he said. “If you’re lucky, you might see it one day, but I’m not telling you anything about it.”

“You’re an asshole, Kurapika,” Leorio said, without any heat in his voice.

Kurapika hummed, lips on the rim of his cup. He wasn’t even the least bit apologetic about it, the bastard. His expression clearly said, “I hope you wallow and drown in your swamp of unsatisfied curiosity.”

The bag of blood-stained clothes sat on the kitchen floor near the doorway, temporarily forgotten. A piece of Kurapika’s life that didn’t belong in this apartment. A piece that would be tossed into the dumpster where it belonged.

That tattoo on Kurapika’s back wouldn’t be so easy to dispose of, however. Even as Leorio and Kurapika engaged in light-hearted taunting, Leorio was aware that Kurapika’s job had stained more than his skin, and none of those stains would come out easily, if at all.


	7. Intersection

Of all the places Leorio had expected to run into Kurapika, the mall hadn’t been one of them. When Leorio saw Kurapika standing outside a high end jewellery store, he thought that he might have been mistaken at first.

But Kurapika’s short build, halo of blond hair and tailored black suit were stuck in Leorio’s memory and the view in front of him lined up perfectly with that.

Kurapika was alone, standing next to the store entrance as if he were waiting for someone. His eyebrows were pinched together in what had to be annoyance.

“Kurapika?”

Leorio approached with a cautious smile on his face. There was no telling how Kurapika would react to seeing him in public.

Kurapika stared at him blankly for a moment, as if he couldn’t figure out what Leorio was doing there. Rather like he was a person from one photograph cut out and pasted onto another.

Finally, Kurapika said stiffly, “Leorio.”

Not the warmest of welcomes, but Leorio could work with that.

“Are you here shopping?” Leorio inquired.

“No. Working, actually.”

Kurapika’s response caused Leorio to glance dubiously at the jewellery store. “You’re, uh, not going to…?”

For a moment, Kurapika looked confused, before his stiff posture broke. He pressed a hand over his mouth, muffling laughter. Leorio bristled as Kurapika calmed himself with considerable effort.

“It’s not funny,” Leorio protested. “You can’t really blame me for wondering, can you?”

Kurapika lowered his hand, smiling. “I’m working as a bodyguard, Leorio,” he said patiently. “My boss is in there.” He jerked his head toward the store behind him, his ruby earring swinging.

Leorio felt like an idiot. Of course Kurapika wouldn’t try to rob the place in broad daylight, with shoppers passing by in a steady stream. Of course he had a legitimate job… well, mostly legitimate, from what Pietro had indicated. Kurapika’s job was legitimate, but his boss wasn’t.

“Kurapika!”

A hand jerked on Kurapika’s shoulder. Kurapika stiffened, his visage that of someone contemplating murder, before it smoothed out. He allowed himself to be turned toward his assailant, a pretty teenage girl wearing a frilly dress.

She held up her wrist in front of his nose. Three shiny bangles adorned it. She shook them insistently, causing them to jingle.

“Which one do you like?” she demanded.

“Miss Neon, I don’t know anything about jewellery,” said Kurapika, though the ruby earring in his ear contradicted that.

Leorio stayed silent, watching the proceedings with interest. He hadn’t ever really gotten the chance to see Kurapika interact with people other than himself and Pietro while not drunk. Kurapika had met Pietro’s girlfriend once, but that had been as she was leaving so they hadn’t exchanged anything more than a polite introduction.

“Just tell me which one you like,” the girl persisted. “You don’t need to know anything about jewellery for that.”

With a long-suffering frown, Kurapika poked at the middle bangle. “That one,” he said, sounding not in the least bit interested. He could at least pretend like he hadn’t just picked at random, Leorio thought with amusement.

The girl seemed to share Leorio’s thought because she glowered at Kurapika.

“You don’t care at all about my interests, do you?” she demanded, putting her hands on her hips.

Leorio took half a step back, uncomfortable. He ought to excuse himself and Let Kurapika handle this without an audience.

“No, I don’t,” Kurapika said heartlessly. “I’m not paid to care about your interests, Miss Neon. I’m paid to keep you safe. If you want an opinion on your choice of jewellery, ask your attendants.”

The girl’s face dropped in disappointment. “You’re awful, Kurapika,” she said bitterly.

Leorio personally thought that Kurapika was a bit harsh, as well. Had it really been necessary to be so blunt? It was… kind of cruel, actually.

“I think they’re all pretty,” he said, offering his opinion uneasily.

Kurapika glared at him, while the girl stared, having just realised he was there.

“I mean, whichever one you decide on will look great, so you should pick the one you like best,” he suggested.

Kurapika interposed himself between Leorio and the girl, his expression wary. Leorio could still easily see the girl’s skeptical frown over Kurapika’s blond head.

“I’ll see you later, Leorio,” he said, a note of anxiety in his voice.

That was a clear dismissal. Leorio shrugged, accepting it.

“Sure. Tonight?”

It’d sure be nice to have a little advance warning of Kurapika’s visit.

“Is your roommate working?”

Kurapika stared up at Leorio with clear hope in his eyes. It warmed Leorio’s heart.

“No, but he won’t be home, anyway,” Leorio said. “He has plans.”

“All right.”

Leorio heard a little squeal of delight, and he glanced over Kurapika’s head again to see that the girl was clasping her hands together, eyes shining.

“Is this your boyfriend, Kurapika?” she gushed.

Kurapika whirled so fast that he almost fell into Leorio.

“No,” he snapped, quick as a stinging wasp.

The girl was completely unperturbed by his behaviour. “That’s so adorable! He’s so handsome!”

Leorio turned bright red as Kurapika snapped, “My personal life is none of your business, Miss Neon.” His voice sounded strangled, and Leorio wished that he could see Kurapika’s face, but the blond was facing the girl, not Leorio.

“The two of you are perfect for each other,” the girl continued to gush, completely ignoring Kurapika’s—very true—statement. “There’s no need to be shy about it, Kurapika. It’s totally fine. In fact, you should take the rest of the day off and spend it with him.”

“What?” Kurapika’s tone was dumbfounded.

“Melody and Baise are here. Surely we can do without you?” The girl’s smile was beatific.

“No,” Kurapika said sternly. “That is not happening.”

“But—“

With one apologetic glance over his shoulder directed at Leorio, Kurapika bodily pushed his charge back into the jewellery store.

Leorio shrugged, both amused and slightly bothered by the encounter. He could see that the girl was still trying to argue with a resolute Kurapika inside the store.

Leorio caught the sound of quiet laughter beside him. Startled, he turned to see a familiar face. He stepped to the side, rattled. It was the black-haired stranger from the convenience store, the one who had returned (or stolen?) his phone.

“He’s very repressed, isn’t he? That must make things difficult for you,” the man said.

Kurapika turned back, as if sensing something amiss. His face completely drained of colour and he beelined for them, paleness quickly giving way to an angry flush.

Leorio felt a flash of alarm, sure that the furious bullet was aiming for him, but instead, Kurapika confronted the stranger. He shoved forcefully on the man’s chest, clearly at the end of his patience.

“Leave. Now,” he snapped, with enough venom to kill a horse.

“You’re in such a bad mood today, Kurapika,” the stranger said, voice as cool and undisturbed as a clear pond. “I just wanted to say hello.”

Kurapika’s reply was uncompromising. “Don’t,” he said.

“Okay, I’m, uh, gonna go,” Leorio said. Kurapika looked as if he were about to blow a fuse, and Leorio didn’t want to be around when he did.

The look on Kurapika’s face as he said, “Yes. Do,” was pathetically grateful.

Leorio left, not knowing how to feel about the abrupt dismissal. Should he feel insulted that he clearly wasn’t welcome in that part of Kurapika’s life?

But the sincere and abject apology he received that night from a weary Kurapika, who showed up with take-away from a very expensive restaurant in hand, smoothed Leorio’s ruffled feathers. He had to admit that he hadn’t been the only one whose feathers had been ruffled that day. Kurapika had looked downright terrified at the sight of his separate lives intersecting right before his eyes.

“I apologise if I came across as rude earlier,” Kurapika said, his eyes downcast as he stood in the doorway clutching his take-out bag, having actually rung the doorbell for once.

“It’s okay, Kurapika. I get it,” Leorio said kindly.

“No. My boss’s behaviour was rude, and I was rude, and—“

Leorio cut him off with a raised hand. “Come in,” he said.

Kurapika raised his eyes to meet Leorio’s, disbelieving. Then he stepped over the threshold into the apartment. He passed by Leorio, who shut the door firmly behind him.


	8. Fiction

There were times when Leorio wondered if Kurapika even had a place of his own. If he did, then why would he be spending his time at Leorio’s doing something as mundane as reading a novel?

Kurapika was tucked up in the corner of the sofa, his knees drawn up as he read, his socked feet perched on the seat cushion. He was dressed casually in a sweater and slacks. Surprisingly, there was a pair of wire-framed glasses perched on his nose.

Leorio, having just put his laundry away, noticed the glasses.

“Hey,” he said, drawing Kurapika’s eyes up from his book. “Since when did you need glasses?”

Kurapika frowned, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Since always,” he said. “They’re reading glasses.” Still frowning, he returned to his book, radiating a mild dissatisfaction with Leorio’s question.

Kurapika could be surprisingly prickly about certain inquiries, especially when he felt the answer was an obvious one. Leorio supposed it had been a rather silly question. Of course they were reading glasses. Kurapika was using them to read, after all. Leorio had really only asked because he’d never realised that Kurapika used them before. Now he felt as if Kurapika had chastised him for being a fool, even though Kurapika had done nothing except frown at him.

“Okay.” Leorio hovered uncertainly, feeling a bit slighted by the fact that Kurapika found his book so much more engaging than Leorio. “What’cha reading?” he finally asked.

Kurapika raised his eyes again. “Could you sit down, please? You’re blocking my light.”

Leorio sat down next to Kurapika and peeked at the cover of the book. “Oh, I know that series!” he exclaimed. “The Phantoms?”

Kurapika lowered the book, startled. “Yes,” he answered. “Have you read them?”

Leorio was familiar with the young adult adventure series about a group of teenagers who had bonded while growing up in a poor neighbourhood and used their wits and skills to eventually become famous international thieves.

“Not recently,” Leorio admitted. “But I used to when I was in college. For fiction books, they’re actually pretty realistic.”

“I’m not surprised,” Kurapika grumbled. He slid his makeshift bookmark, a receipt, onto the page and closed the book. After setting it on the arm of the sofa, he got to his feet. “Do you want anything from the kitchen?” he inquired.

“No, thanks.”

Surprised by Kurapika’s abrupt gloomy sea-change, Leorio watched him walk into the kitchen before he snatched up Kurapika’s book. The series logo and author name were familiar, but Leorio had never read this volume. Whoa, were they really up to book number 27? Leorio thought that he’d stopped reading somewhere around book 11.

Leorio flipped open the book. He paused on the flyleaf, noticing that the page wasn’t blank. Handwriting scrawled across the page.

Leorio read the blue-inked words, conflicted emotions bubbling up inside him. ‘For my favourite and cutest fan, Kurapika.’ It was signed with the author’s signature. Huh, Kurapika had actually met the author? But, really, why was the author calling Kurapika their favourite and cutest fan? Wasn’t that a bit creepy?

Leorio flipped to the back of the book as Kurapika rummaged around in the kitchen, oblivious to Leorio’s snooping. Not that Kurapika had any room to judge Leorio in that area. Leorio froze as he saw the small black-and-white photograph of the author. Even with the man’s short black hair loose and falling into his eyes, Leorio recognised him.

Chrollo Lucilfer, the author of the Phantoms series, was the same man who had approached Leorio in the convenience store, and the same man who had shown up again at the mall. The man who was clearly one of Kurapika’s targets.

“Christ,” Leorio muttered disbelievingly as he closed the book. As he was putting it back where Kurapika had left it, Kurapika returned with a cup of tea in hand. Leorio wondered if Kurapika was trying to cut back on caffeine. Maybe he should do the same thing?

Kurapika stood there for several seconds, frowning. His eyes shifted between Leorio and the novel suspiciously. Feeling a bit awkward, Leorio said teasingly, “You’re blocking my light, Kurapika.”

“Funny, since you always call me Sunshine,” Kurapika retorted. He finally took his previous spot, set his tea down on the low table in front of the sofa, and picked up his book again. Instead of opening it, he held it on his lap, his forehead creased.

“Did you see the connection?” Kurapika inquired quietly.

“Yeah. Don’t think I’ll ever be able to see those books in the same light again,” Leorio confessed. “No wonder they’re so realistic.”

Kurapika nodded, fingers rubbing the colourful cover of the book. “I was very surprised to learn that the author was my target,” he admitted. “I loved those books as a child. Now…”

Kurapika’s fingers clenched on the book.

“Hey.” Leorio reached over to cover Kurapika’s smaller hand with his own. He rubbed gently until Kurapika let out a long breath. The tension in his fingers finally eased.

“I wasn’t supposed to go after the spiders,” he revealed. “My target was Mr Nostrade, but… I always intended to go after the spiders. That was why I became a police officer.”

Leorio kept his hand over Kurapika’s, acutely aware that he was probably the only person in the world who could touch Kurapika in such a way. While sober, Kurapika always reacted with intense discomfort whenever anyone initiated physical contact with him. But, over time, Leorio had realised that he could get away with these little gestures. Even sober, Kurapika would accept them from him—and only him.

“Do you have some history with the spiders?” Leorio questioned.

Kurapika nodded. “But I’d rather not say any more right now,” he said. He set the book back on the arm of the sofa and tucked his head against Leorio’s arm. Realising that Kurapika hadn’t bothered taking his glasses off, Leorio plucked them off his nose and tucked them into the collar of his own shirt.

Leorio was incredibly curious about Kurapika’s past now, but he knew better than to push Kurapika. He’d go to the library instead and start working his way through the Phantoms series again. There might well be clues in some of the earlier books, if they were based on the author’s real-life experiences.


	9. Discovered

Searching for clues to Kurapika’s past between the pages of the Phantoms novels turned out to be futile. The details of the group’s exploits were too vague to connect with Kurapika. If Leorio knew more about Kurapika’s history himself, then he might have had a chance of finding something, but right now the task was akin to looking for a needle in a haystack.

It didn’t help that events were somewhat watered down due to the target audience’s age. Death was rarely mentioned directly, rather it appeared to be a neighbour you knew lived in the house, but never actually saw in person. Whatever history Kurapika had with the spiders was likely to be bloody—Kurapika wouldn’t have gone to such lengths if it weren’t.

So Leorio gave up on the Phantoms books. In addition to the futility of his mission, the protagonist creeped him out too much. Kane Lutin, the main character, was portrayed as caring for his friends, but was also a rather selfish individual, chasing treasure and pleasure with the same callous attitude toward those he considered outsiders—outsiders being anyone who wasn’t in the Phantoms.

Leorio did find a possible mention of Kurapika in the latest book, which had ended with the disappearance of one of the members. Leorio guessed that character was the man Kurapika had killed so he could take his place. There was a brief hint at the end of the book of a stranger who sounded suspiciously like Kurapika approaching the Phantoms. Leorio wondered what Kurapika made of that, but decided not to ask. Kurapika had already told Leorio more about his life than was good for Leorio’s health.

So Leorio returned to his daily routine with his curiosity set aside for the time being.

The text Leorio found on his phone as he checked it during his break thoroughly freaked him out.

> Can you come home?

Leorio gripped his phone tightly as he studied the screen, his sandwich forgotten.

“Is something wrong, Doctor Paladiknight?”

Leorio looked up to see a nurse giving him an inquiring look. He recognised her, though they weren’t familiar enough with each other to do more than exchange pleasantries. Her dyed pink hair was distinctive, standing out against the usually-stark hospital decor. Leorio had wondered at first if she was hitting on him, since she’d been the one to initiate conversation with him, but when she’d made no move to deepen their relationship, he assumed that she was just being friendly.

“Uh, no. I hope not, anyway,” he said, fingers combing through his hair.

It was too soon to panic. Anything could be wrong, from a pipe bursting to… well, Kurapika.

“Okay.” The nurse smiled at him before continuing on.

Leorio turned back to his phone. He tapped out a reply to Pietro.

> I’m working. What’s up?

The reply was quick.

> Your twink. He’s flipping out over something.

Leorio groaned. Since when had Kurapika become ‘his’?

> Can’t you handle him?
> 
> Are you joking?
> 
> WORKING!

Leorio put his phone away, but he knew that the rest of his shift was going to be a nightmare. All he could think about was what had Kurapika so freaked out that Pietro was asking Leorio to come home. And what state would Kurapika be in when Leorio got there?

“I put him in your room,” Pietro informed Leorio as soon as he stepped into the apartment. Pietro looked thoroughly put out and rumpled, his face lined with stress.

“is he drunk?” Leorio asked.

“No. I wish he was, though,” Pietro said sourly. “He’d be easier to handle.”

“Shit. It must be serious,” Leorio muttered.

Pietro, who had turned away, turned back, a furrow between his brows.

“Leo, I think you’re getting too deep into this,” Pietro started. “There are so many people out there who don’t come with his baggage.”

Leorio shook his head, smiling wryly. “It doesn’t work that way, Pietro,” he reminded his friend. ‘It’ being ‘love’, but Leorio wasn’t going to say that out loud.

Pietro didn’t say anything in response, but his disappointment showed on his face.

Leorio headed for his bedroom. He found Kurapika curled up on his bed, face buried in a pillow. Leorio sat down on the edge of the mattress.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

An incoherent mutter confirmed that Kurapika wasn’t asleep, but also wasn’t in a mood to engage in intelligent conversation.

“We’ve talked about this, Sunshine,” Leorio continued, since it was clear that Kurapika wouldn’t be contributing. “You can’t give my roommate a hard time. If he leaves, I’d have to pay the full rent. That’d suck.”

Another incoherent noise came from Kurapika, and it sounded suspiciously like a sob.

“Kurapika?”

Leorio brushed his hair back from his face. His cheeks were wet.

“Hey, are you crying?”

Kurapika whacked his arm while turning his face further into the pillow.

“What’s wrong?” Leorio persisted. “Did something happen?”

Kurapika lifted himself from the pillow, glaring through bleary, wet eyes.

“Leave me alone,” he snapped.

“Okay. I’m, uh, going to go and shower. Then I’m gonna start on dinner,” Leorio said. “You can stay here for as long as you need to.”

Kurapika watched him like a wary fox as Leorio gathered up a change of clothes and left the room, closing the door behind him.

He showered before joining Pietro in the living room.

“Lasagna?” he asked.

Pietro shrugged. “Anything’s fine. I’m not hungry anyway. How’s Kurapika?”

Leorio leaned his head back against the sofa, groaning. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this before. I want him to tell me what’s going on, but I don’t know how far I can push it. And how am I supposed to help, anyway?”

“Leorio… I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but…”

Leorio straightened, tension gripping him.

“I’m sure Kurapika already knows, but I doubt it has anything to do with this. He should be happy, really…”

“Come on, Pietro. I’m dying in suspense here,” Leorio said dryly.

Pietro gave him a reprimanding look, but Leorio was too curious to take any notice of it.

“Nosttrade is going to be arrested,” Pietro said. “The case against him is pretty solid, from what I’ve heard.”

Leorio thought about the girl he’d met at the mall, Kurapika’s charge. Probably Nostrade’s daughter. He felt incredibly sorry for her. Her fancy world was about to come crashing down around her.

“What does that mean for Kurapika?” Leorio asked.

“He’ll have to give evidence,” Pietro said. “His identity will be kept secret, though, since there’s a risk that Nostrade’s associates might try to take him out.”

“So, that means he won’t be working for Nostrade anymore,” Leorio started, trying to parse the repercussions.

“No,” Pietro agreed.

“But what about his other targets?”

“The spiders?” Pietro shrugged. “I don’t know much about that. I’ve heard those guys are pretty twisted, though, so who knows?”

“If the spiders find out that Kurapika is an undercover cop…” Leorio felt a chill at the thought.

“What makes you think they don’t already know?”

The new voice brought both Leorio and Pietro to attention. Kurapika stood in the entry to the hall, looking dishevelled. He fixed a glare on Pietro.

“Thanks to the fucking idiots at the DA’s office who spilled about Nostrade’s arrest, they found out about me.”

Leorio got hastily to his feet, approaching Kurapika with outstretched hands. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

Kurapika sharply retreated, posture defensive. Leorio froze.

“No,” Kurapika said.

“And?” Leorio pressed. “What did they do?”

“Forget about it.”

Kurapika tried to pass him, but Leorio blocked him, forcing Kurapika to retreat two steps back into the hall, glaring up at Leorio with eyes still red from crying.

“Kurapika, this is important. Are you in danger?”

Kurapika’s response was fanged. “If they wanted to kill me, I’d be already dead. They made that quite clear.” Kurapika practically spat the words out.

Leorio pitched his voice gentle, very conscious of the fact that Kurapika’s bearing was that of a wounded animal. “They can’t possibly have just laughed this off, Kurapika. Come on, tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re an idiot, aren’t you?” Bitterness coated Kurapika’s words and Leorio rocked back, hurt.

“Leo.” Pietro’s hand landed on his shoulder. He and Kurapika shared a look before Kurapika turned his face away. To Kurapika, Pietro said, “I’m going to take a stab in the dark here. The spiders wouldn’t keep you around unless they were sure of your loyalty—or they had something on you. It’s probably the latter, right? Did they threaten your family?”

Kurapika wrapped his arms around himself as he leaned against the wall. “What family?” he snarled.

Pietro’s hand tightened on Leorio’s shoulder. Leorio felt his knees wobble.

“It’s Leorio, isn’t it?”

Kurapika’s silence, and the fact that he refused to meet Leorio’s eyes, was all the confirmation Leorio needed.


	10. Resolute

Leorio had to sit down. The revelation was too much for him. Kurapika followed him into the living room and watched as Leorio plopped onto the sofa, but remained at a distance. Pietro hovered nearby, his anger simmering in his dark eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Leorio said, breaking an uneasy silence. “Do they really think that threatening me will keep you in check?”

Kurapika glowered, his arms crossed. His attitude was clearly still combative. Leorio could hardly blame him since Pietro hadn’t cooled down in the slightest either.

“I suppose it’s as effective a tactic as I want it to be,” Kurapika muttered.

Pietro shifted, as if he wanted to hit Kurapika, but he stayed in control of himself.

“And how effective is that?” Leorio inquired. It was a rare experience for him to have to look up at Kurapika as Kurapika was so much shorter than him. Evening out the height difference was an impossible task right now though, as Kurapika showed no desire to approach him or sit down and Leorio doubted that his own legs were capable of holding him up just yet.

Kurapika grimaced. “Quite effective,” he responded.

“I don’t know if I should feel flattered or terrified by that,” Leorio admitted. He laughed, though there was no mirth in the sound. It was more an expression of incredulity at the situation rather than an expression of amusement. Kurapika had, up until now, shown no definitive indication that he returned Leorio’s deepening feelings for him, but Leorio supposed that here was proof that his feelings were reciprocated. Kurapika had already risked a lot to get in with the spiders. Leorio doubted that he would jeopardise that for anyone he didn’t care deeply for. In fact, if Leorio had just been an acquaintance, Kurapika would probably have thrown him to the wolves… er, spiders.

If things had gone just a bit differently, if Leorio had said the wrong thing on the morning of their first meeting, he could easily have had his throat slit. Leorio had no doubt that Kurapika was either callous enough or determined enough to do it.

Kurapika was a dangerous individual, himself. If he weren’t, he would never have been able to infiltrate the spiders.

Remembering that, especially when Kurapika often acted so cute with him, was very difficult for Leorio, though. Nonetheless, forgetting it might one day cost him his life.

“Well, that’s just great,” Pietro muttered sourly. “You do realise that they’ve got you by the balls, right?”

“Pietro,” Leorio said warningly.

Pietro glared at him, but continued speaking to Kurapika. “They could make you agree to anything. How do you expect to take them down when any move against them could bring harm to Leorio? They don’t have to kill him, you know. They might decide to keep him alive and torture him instead.”

Leorio shuddered, feeling nauseous. “Could we not go there, please?” he asked, his voice raw. He was ignored as Kurapika met Pietro’s eyes, his own as hard as steel.

“They could hold him over you for the rest of your life,” Pietro continued. “What are you going to do about it?”

A shiver ran down Leorio’s spine. Suddenly he glimpsed a possible solution, one that Pietro had no doubt already seen.

“I’m going to kill them,” Kurapika said quietly. “All of them.”

“And how?” Pietro challenged.

“I’ll find a way.” Kurapika didn’t look away from Pietro.

“And what happens if you decide that your revenge is more important than Leorio’s life?” Pietro asked.

Leorio wanted to object to the uncomfortable direction the conversation was taking, but he stayed quiet. Truthfully, that was a question he wanted answered too. What if Kurapika’s feelings for Leorio changed? What if the spiders pushed Kurapika too far?

What if he figured out that if Leorio was dead, his collar and leash would be gone and he’d be free to act against the spiders?

“That wouldn’t happen.” Kurapika sounded very certain of that, and Leorio wished that he could believe him. Could believe that it would always be true. But relationships were often fraught with conflict. Love could easily turn into resentment, especially with the added stress of the spiders holding Leorio hostage to ensure Kurapika’s loyalty, or at least, his cooperation.

“Are you so sure about that?” Pietro asked.

Kurapika looked between Pietro and Leorio before resting his eyes on Pietro again.

“I don’t see how this has anything to do with you,” he said. “Maybe you should stay out of it.”

“Maybe I should,” Pietro agreed. “And maybe you should have done a better job of keeping Leorio out of your shit. But here we are.”

With that, and a softer look directed at Leorio, Pietro disappeared into the hall. Kurapika let out a breath, his shoulders dropping. All of his bravado seemed to leave him in the one exhale.

He knelt on the carpet and rested his forehead against Leorio’s knee. Leorio couldn’t resist petting his hair. Kurapika remained like that for a minute, letting Leorio gently scrape his fingers through the soft strands in silence. Whether Kurapika actually found any comfort in the gesture, or whether he was merely taking the opportunity to compose himself was a mystery to Leorio. Eventually, the moment passed and Kurapika raised his face, dislodging Leorio’s fingers.

“I am so sorry,” Kurapika said. “I never thought this would happen. I thought I had everything under control. Please know that i won’t do anything that might endanger you.”

“But you still intend to kill the spiders,” Leorio pointed out.

“Yes, but I won’t make any rash moves. If I plan everything carefully and set up the right opportunities, I believe I can do so without them suspecting my involvement.”

“That’s risky, Sunshine.”

“I know,” Kurapika agreed, but Leorio detected the stubborn set to his jaw.

Kurapika was going to go after the spiders. That was a foregone conclusion. Leorio could see only one way to deal with the situation, only one path that was viable for him to take.

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

The sooner Kurapika rid the world of the spiders, the sooner Leorio would be free from their threat. He’d have preferred that Kurapika aim to have them arrested, but Leorio guessed that Kurapika had his reasons for taking a more violent route. It wasn’t as if the spiders were innocent, either. They were, at the very least, thieves. Likely murderers as well. Kurapika seemed to believe that they posed a serious threat to Leorio’s life, indicating that the spiders were capable of such heinous actions. Also, the spiders were the ones who had threatened Leorio in the first place. Why should he feel any compassion for them or show them any mercy? He didn’t think he’d receive the same consideration in return.

But until Kurapika achieved his goal, he’d have to play the spiders’ game. He’d have to be one of them—and if they were guilty of such crimes, then Kurapika was undoubtedly guilty as well.

Kurapika was technically being coerced into it, Leorio reminded himself. Yet, that was a technicality that he doubted the spiders’ victims would care much for.

Kurapika got to his feet, uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

“You’d really help me?” he asked, his voice timid.

“It seems like the only way out of this,” Leorio said, giving him the honest, unvarnished truth.

“Thank you, though I hope I will never have to take you up on that. And, once again, I’m so sorry.”

Kurapika crawled onto the sofa and leaned close. Leorio felt soft lips brush his cheek. Then Kurapika was scrambling off, brushing absently at his slacks as if he were embarrassed. He didn’t meet Leorio’s eyes.

Should Leorio say something? He could still feel the phantom touch of Kurapika’s lips on his cheek. He didn’t ever want to wash his face again.

Kurapika stared out the window, facing away from Leorio with cheeks hosting a rosy blush.

“I should go,” he said. “I’m sure that your roommate doesn’t want me here right now.”

Leorio stood. He wrapped his arms around Kurapika from behind and rested his chin atop Kurapika’s head.

“Stay safe,” he said. “Don’t you dare get yourself stabbed again. Or shot. Or anything.”

An honest response wasn’t what Leorio expected, but it was what he got.

“I can’t make any promises.”

The scent of Kurapika’s hair lingered with Leorio long after he’d left.


End file.
